This blog seems to be my therapy lately. A place where I am as honest as I can be. Sometimes thing others look at as someones gift or talent may not feel like that to the person or artist. This is a scary and terrifying world to have a talent in. Your are loved and hated instantly. You are worshiped and cursed almost in the same breath. And, to make an error in judgement, speech, or action you are attacked from everywhere. You have to have tough skin, a heart with armor around it, and be sure of who you are inside.

I think I have the tough skin. I do not have a heart with armor around it. Which might surprise some that think they know me. I rarely cry in front of people – even family. If you have read or read my poetry, I think you should see I must cry at times.

So – how do I see my poetry? Gift, curse, or blessing? I see my poetry as all of them.

My poetry is a gift. It allows me to express my broken heart. My heart is broken. It broke 23 years ago after a Mass in a Catholic church. It almost healed or should I say numbed enough or the scar became thick enough until a year ago. My heart broke again at another Mass in a Catholic church. At least my husband was with me this time and could confirm some things that happened. I was already putting By the Pond together for about 6 months prior. That Mass changed the book a bit. I became a bit bolder and the first 5 poems and 3-4 more in the first section are new ones I wrote after that Mass for the book.

My poetry is a both curse and blessing. I cannot not write. If I do not write, it swims and swims in my head until I let it out. The thoughts and ideas will not go away until I say it with pencil on my yellow legal pad. Since By the Pond, I have written over 100 new poems. There are still poems from 1993 period. When writing is intense, it is a relief to get it out. There can be a sense of satisfaction when it flows and I am finally good with what the poem says. They take work and a lot of rewriting. A lot emotional investment goes into them. My poems are pieces of me. Tears fall over many of them as I write and rewrite.

I do have an escape from the stress of my poetry. When I am at the elementary where I am a substitute teacher, my focus changes. My attention goes to the children I am with that day. The hugs and happy faces in the halls when they see me makes my mind relax and my heart finds its smile for awhile. Some hurts, some heartbreaks, do not heal. They are ever present. Working with children comforts that hurt that will not heal for me. Poetry only expresses it and is not an escape from it. Poetry is a release for it. We all need times and places where the hurts can be pushed aside for awhile to pretend them for a time forgotten.

The poem in the picture above is on page 6 in By the Pond: Of My Poetry (I would say)

About the Author

My poetry has been my therapy over the years. In 1993, an unusual traumatic event occurred with me. Poetry over the years has been my sorting out process. I have always had a strong spiritual nature balanced by strong doubt. During period of tremendous confusion, my poetry (sometimes more like stories my son thinks) helped me remember who I am, how I feel, and what I think and always have from a child. The theme I hope comes through is that we should not have our heads too far into the clouds or too deeply into the dirt. Life lives as balance somewhere in the middle with little visits to both edges.
All 56 years of my life I have lived in Michigan. I was born in Kalamazoo September 16, 1958. My parents separated when I was young do to my mother’s mental illness. Dad died in 1965 at 29 from a cerebral hemorrhage. I was 6 when he passed. Grandma Peggy (my dad’s mother) went to court 7 times in a year and a half to fight for my younger sister (Kim who was mentally impaired) and me, because my dad had asked her too. She won custody of us. So, I lived with her in Bangor, Michigan through high school and college.
I didn’t begin to write poetry until I went to live with my aunt (my mother’s sister) in Wartervliet, Michigan while attending Lake Michigan College in Benton Harbor. My aunt lived near my mother and her mother (my Grandma Elsie). After 2 years there, I attended Western Michigan University in Kalamazoo. I graduated with a Bachelor of Arts major in English and minor in Elementary Education.
Right out of college fall of 1984 I was hired at St. Mary’s in Paw Paw, Michigan as a kindergarten teacher. I taught kindergarten for 1 year half days and was moved into a full-time first grade position for three years. I met my husband Gary during that time. On October 17, 1987, we married and I moved to Fennville, Michigan where I still live. Gary and I have a son age 24 and a daughter age 19.